Life is like a box of chocolates...
Life is like a seesaw...
Some days are darker than others...
Last week was Thanksgiving and our youngest's 10th birthday. A busy week full of happy and memorable things, right? I was not wanting to add to the week... but our buddy Monk (our rescue dog) was not getting better from having a bad ear infection. We took him to the vet (for the 2nd time in 3 weeks) and found out he had something wrong with his brain.
He had been struggling for about 3 weeks and we had been to the vet for a checkup where they had found a bad ear infection. Monk was put on a restricted diet, limited mobility (his equilibrium was so off he couldn't do steps without falling) and medication. So we carried him up and down the stairs to go outside, tried to play with him, took him for walks, and followed the Vets instructions. But everyday something new left us all with a sense of dread and my husband kept asking, "Are you sure it's just his ears?".
So I finally got up the courage to make another appointment, I say this because I think I was just hoping that it really was his ears. I think the doctor knew from my phone call the previous day, but she listened to all of his symptoms just the same. The more we talked and the more she observed (plus some testing), the end result of what needed to be done was there sitting like a pile of poop in the middle of the room. My husband hugged our dog and said, "I'm gonna go grab the kids so they can come say goodbye." So that left me with about 25 minutes alone in the room with Monk. It forced me to do something I've never really done with my pets before, say Goodbye.
When I was younger my parents took care of these things, you said goodbye at home and they went to the vet and they never came back. When I was in my 20's one dog ran away, one dog went with an ex and one went with a roommate. And the last dog we had was truly my husband's dog (I mean I liked the dog but he LOVED my husband) and when we had to put him down due to cancer, I was in the room with the dog because my husband could not do it. I just went in and rubbed him and petted him until he went to sleep and said things like, "It's ok". (our dog not my husband - but then that's kind of what i did for him when we got home too).
But this time it was entirely different. Maybe because I'm older and have aging parents (like we all do) and I feel death is closer than ever? Which is stupid, because death is always there. It's an unavoidable thing that is a part of life, right?
I am going to have to put a pin in this topic because it seems like when we are younger we deal with it differently? Or maybe it's being a parent?
(Monk's story)Monk was like having a perpetual cute little toddler around. He came to us not really knowing what petting was or human touch. But he was smart, he trained well, he NEVER peed or pooped in our house, he ran these crazy little circles when he was happy or excited, he loved to play tug of war, and he was a great listener. He loved to be held. He used to do this thing where he would sigh and huff when he was bored and wanted a walk. He was NOT perfect, he ate crap in the yard all the time and then would barf it up in the house (I guess he was trying to make up for not pooping or peeing in the house). He LOVED to eat kleenex from the trash can and hide under our bed when he was in trouble (or barfing). Thoroughly enjoyed digging in the yard for said yummy junk and getting very muddy. Did I mention he HATED rain but LOVED snow. Quirky should have been his middle name.So for the whole 25 minutes my husband was gone, I vacillated back and forth between a slobbering incoherent idiot to a super calm new age guru murmuring all the great things about the afterlife into Monk's ear. Bless him he was tolerant of my human idiosyncrasies even then. And the poor Vet staff...they would peep in and leave water and more kleenex, a form to sign, and eventually put lines in his legs for the injections to come later. When the kids came we all took our turns hugging him and loving him one last time. Then we all went out to the car (Monk's favorite place), he was wrapped in his favorite blanket (that smelled like all of us) and I held him and kissed his head until he fell asleep forever. We all stayed and watched him go. It was really hard but it felt like the best thing we could do for him and for us. We were such an emotional train wreck that we made the vet cry!
This is the only pet my kids have known (fish don't count). And for the most part, I think we are doing ok. We share memories and all of us have caught ourselves saying things like, "did anyone feed Monk? or, "Is the dog still outside?". I think the thing that bothers us all more than anything is the quiet. No more the sighing, or circling when my kids and husband get home from their day. And toys and treats keep popping up whenever we lift furniture or clean. We have his ashes and are waiting to spread them until the 1st snow, since he loved it so much. We are openly processing his loss from our lives (I cry stupidly at all the little things that remind me of his little life). They are all dudes so I guess they process things differently than me?
This was all 2 days before my youngest had his birthday. And in that same week, my husband accepted a new job and there was VIP day at a school and wresting camp and piano lessons, cakes to bake, presents to buy, laundry to do and traveling...what's the line from the movie Parenthood that the grandma says toward the end?
"You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster. Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride! I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."(Parenthood, 1989)
Sometimes roller-coasters make you cry.
So long Monk,
Life with you was definitely a roller-coaster.
Thanks for sharing the ride.
We love you ❤
